


A Kiss Found

by Hold_en



Series: More than just a kiss [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Crushes, Desire, F/M, Forbidden, Lust, Older Man/Younger Woman, Potions, Power Dynamics, Sexy Times, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-17 12:30:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17560418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hold_en/pseuds/Hold_en
Summary: Valentine's Day is fast approaching Hogwarts and many of the students and faculty are finding the holiday hard to ignore, especially Hermione Granger and Severus Snape.Part 2 of the "Kiss Promised" series. You should read that before this!





	1. Part 1

 It was the week before before Valentine's Day and Hogwarts was a flutter. Couples walked hand in hand smiling moonily at one another. Red, pink and and lavender decorations littered every corridor. Everyone in the vicinity seemed to be sickeningly obsessed with the warm and sickly sweet feeling of St. Valentine's Day fever.

All except for one Hermione Granger. She sat on a stone window ledge pretending to read her notes for Herbology but was instead covertly looking for someone very specific.

A tall, miserable someone.

This had become her Wednesday routine as of the last month or so. She would pretend to go over notes, read her textbook, enjoy a small leisure read at this exact spot every Wednesday. She didn't dare do it more often because then it would be suspicious. But this location was in between her first and second afternoon class. It merely looked like she was killing time between classes.

Only she knew that this was the corridor he always walked down after his lunch to get a walk in before his own Wednesday afternoon classes. She knew this because she had noticed it once when she was coming back from the library one afternoon and seen him. She'd ducked into the girl's lavatory until he passed, unsure of why she felt the need to avoid him so strongly.

When she'd noticed this pattern happen every Wednesday following, she had started to haunt the space by the window. It was out of the way so he wouldn't notice her unless he was searching for her. It also gave her the best light for when she had to read. And then it had suddenly become a habit she couldn't (and didn't want to) break.

In the classroom he was defensive and mean spirited. At meals she was surrounded by people who would notice her distraction. Walking down the halls he was more unguarded, more casual. It was the way she liked him best. Well, almost. When the number of students increased in the hallway she glanced at her wristwatch and noted with a flutter of her heart that it was almost time.  Her stomach clenched in anticipation.

_Oh don't be late._

And then all of a sudden as if he’d heard her unspoken desires, he came into view. Scowling at the students who happened to get in his way. Like Moses parting the sea, students moved away so that he could continue unencumbered. His strides were long and firm and his eyes never fell on any of them in particular. Instead his eyes were fixed in middle distance, his jaw clenched.

And as he strode towards her, Hermione felt her entire insides melt. Even now as she sat, looking through her hair at the other figures that walked by she couldn't help but internally admonish herself.

_Really Hermione? Him? The man who mocked your teeth? The one who called you an insufferable know it all? Him?!_

Yes. Him. Professor Snape. Ever since the incident at the Christmas party and the enchanted mistletoe, Hermione had been hard pressed to get that man out of her mind. And she had tried valiantly!

The day after the party she and the rest of the students had gone to their homes for Christmas break. She had been distracted by family visits, opening gifts and ice skating with her cousins to spare much thought for Snape and their ‘incident’. If anything she was humiliated and wanted to push it from her mind.

Talking with her parents over hot cocoa late into the night about their work and her school most evenings kept her pleasantly tired and distracted. And so it wasn't until she was on the train ride back to Hogwarts a few weeks later that she first felt an icy finger of shame and trepidation slip down her spine.

She could still feel his lips on hers. Still feel the heat from his body as he held her in his arms. How would she look at him? How could she possibly face him after all this?

When it came time for her first class of the new year she was terrified. She made sure to sit at the very back of his classroom, praying that he didn’t even notice she was taking his Advanced Potions class this term.

She was organizing her quills beside her textbook when the door to the classroom had burst open dramatically. He’d swanned into the room like some dark creature, his tone clipped and his form taut as he moved.  

“I assume you’ve all read chapters one through five in preparation for your class today?” He said, scribbling something at the front of the class on the black board with some chalk.

“Yes sir,” came the tentative chorus of voices from behind him. He still hadn’t faced them, and now he did, his eyes scanning the room and falling on her face a fraction longer than the others. Hermione’s stomach twisted painfully as she waited for him to say something, do something that would humiliate her. Instead his eyes slid past her face and back to the rest of the class.

“Then begin on the lesson I’ve written. Any student caught talking with lose House Points.”

And with that he had watched them prepare for today’s lesson. First they’d all rushed to the ingredient stores to get the necessary supplies. Then, following the instructions on the board they got to creating. All the while he said nothing, merely walking the aisles and peering into the occasional cauldron. He didn’t even slow as he approached her, choosing to look at her neighbors simmering cauldron instead.

To her complete surprise, it had turned out that all her panic had been for nothing. The rest of the class had gone on as if not a thing had happened between them. In fact it was as if she had imagined the entire thing and a very paranoid part of her wondered if this was actually the case.

A large part of her wondered if she'd actually dreamed the entire night up until she got a note halfway through her holidays. It was from Ginny saying that she had to suffer through an entire week of Ron and Candace making soppy faces at one another and that it was even worse than when they were at the Christmas dance.  

Now two months later and Hermione was completely at a loss. She knew that this crush was idiotic. A sure effect from what had occurred under the mistletoe. Take one sexually repressed young woman add in a dash of mysterious authority figure sprinkle in some enchanted mistletoe and of course it would end in such!

The only problem was that as much as she told herself that this was a stupid crush and that she needed to move on instantly, she couldn't. She had turned into a veritable stalker – hanging about in corridors she knew he patrolled, going to breakfast early because she knew he ate earlier than the majority of the other professors. She was obsessed and she knew it.

She'd tried to overcome it though with a hastily agreed to date with Theodore Nott of all people! He’d taken her to Hogsmeade for a walk and drinks. He spoke of what future career he hoped to have and asked Hermione all the kinds of questions she would have normally loved. He was sweet and attentive and respectful.

And she’d thought of nothing but Snape.

She felt so badly for her secret distraction that she’d insisted on paying for everything –even Theodore’s second drink. He’d been so taken with her than evening that he’d insisted on taking her out again. She’d agreed to it and given him a small kiss before she’d come back to her dorms, thrown herself onto her bed and fallen into a fitful sleep.

She couldn't confide in anyone about this - Ginny was sure to tell Harry or worse she would laugh in her face! And so she carried this crush like a horrible secret shame.

And now as Snape moved past her perched on the window ledge, completely unaware of her secret watching, she felt her longing magnified. She silently willed him to meet her gaze even though she knew that if he did she would be mortified. Still, the thought thrilled her.  

_Look at me look at me look at me._

She needed his acknowledgement. Craved it. It hadn’t just been her who had been so affected was it? But he never looked at her or acknowledged her presence on these Wednesday's. And although it was hardly longer than thirty seconds, Hermione counted these moments as the highlight of her weeks. She watched as his lithe frame moved down the corridor and turned. When he was out of her view  her heartbeat began to resume its normal pace.

I need to stop this.

Hermione felt pathetic about this obsession. That was what it was - it had gone from crush to full blown obsession. All sprung from a silly kiss under a sprig of enchanted mistletoe! Without effort thoughts came to her of Snape’s mouth and hands all over her body. But instead of pulling away, he was whispering filthy things in her ear and insisting she follow him to the dungeons. A warmth went through her body at that image and Hermione felt herself smiling goofily into the distance. 

“Hermione?”

At the sound of her name so close to her ear, Hermione nearly fell off the ledge of the window, giving a small yelp and dropping her books. She turned to see Ginny looking at her with an amused look on her face.

“Wool gathering?”

“Just thinking,” Hermione muttered, leaning down and picking her books back up.

“About someone special I think?”

Hermione immediately blanched. How had Ginny known she was fantasizing about Snape? Was it that obvious?

“What?”

“Theodore?” Ginny said with a playful nudge. “I’d know a look of fantasy when I see it.”

Hermione smiled but inwardly groaned. Poor Theordore Nott. Not only was she completely besotted with Snape, but worse yet, she had been out with Theodore Nott seven times since then in some misguided way of forcing Snape out of her mind! Not much good it had done. His wet kisses and awkward fumblings had been tolerable at best. And now he had said he wanted to do something special for her this Valentine’s Day.

"Are you excited?" Ginny gushed, her own eyes alight. “Theodore is taking you to dinner isn't he? At that fancy Muggle place you love?"

"Yes, right," Hermione said, trying not to sound so unimpressed. 

"What are you going to wear?"

Hermione shifted the books in her arms, surprised at the question. She motioned to her school clothes absently.  "This I suppose."

Ginny's face dropped dramatically as she surveyed her friend's dowdy robes and frizzy hair.

"Hermione," she said in a serious tone. "You are not losing your virginity in your school robes. It's Valentine's Day for Merlin's sake!"

Valentine's Day. Or rather, the evening would be Hermione's chance to throw away this useless virginity that hung over her head like a pall. She was nineteen, almost twenty and she needed to just do it. She had always planned on doing with Ron on their wedding night.

She knew it had been a fool’s errand, but her romanticized version of their relationship hadn’t stopped her ridiculous fantasy. Theodore was nice and kind and why shouldn’t she lose her virginity to him? A part of her wondered if she wasn’t doing this as some way to assuage her guilt at unintentionally using him.

But Ginny was sitting there, looking at Hermione as if she’d grown another head at her suggestion of garment. Hermione knew she wasn’t the pinnacle of fashion, but did Ginny really need to look at her like that?

"Fine," Hermione said with a sigh. "What do you propose I wear?"

Ginny smiled widely. “I thought you’d never ask.”

 


	2. Part 2

Snape strolled down the corridors of Hogwarts, trying his best to ignore the mooning students and garish decorations. Valentine’s Day was well on its way and Severus could barely contain his disgust. Of all the holidays excessively celebrated here, this had to be the most draining.

If he wasn’t scouring the halls after hours to ensure students weren’t creating love potions, he was listening to the female population of the faculty during meals reminiscing over lost loves or their plans for the Sunday event.

_Rubbish._

He turned down the corridor towards the dungeons. He knew he had to rush as his classes were about to start. Just before he reached the mouth of the corridor, he paused ever so slightly.  He knew that _she_ would be there. Perched enticingly on the lip of the window with her unruly hair spilling over her shoulders. Backlit by the sun she would appear angelic, but Severus knew better. Because he saw the way she watched him walk. Knew that her eyes following him as he strode past her. There was nothing angelic about that heated gaze.

 He would never acknowledge her of course.  He’d noticed the Wednesday pattern she’d adopted. He knew that in this corridor, every Wednesday, Hermione Granger would be waiting under the guise of reading or waiting for her afternoon classes. To a spy such as himself it had been obvious in its infancy. The first time had been coincidence; every time afterwards had been intentional. He had no interest in furthering any interest from the girl. And so he never let his eyes travel up her legs or to her face. Because if she sensed any interest or attraction, the girl would be relentless, just as she was in her academic pursuits.

And because, if he was honest with himself, ever since the Christmas party, he would be hard pressed to decline her if she made an offer. This fact horrified him at his core, disgusted him even. But she had stirred something within him that evening under the mistletoe.  Her soft lips urgent against his own, the feel of her body pressing hungrily against him. Too often when alone in bed, his mind would turn to that moment. The moment she’d whimpered against his mouth and he’d gripped her bottom.

_It was just the mistletoe._

It had enchanted them both and it was pathetic to think more on it. The attraction hadn’t been mutual – it had been the side effect of an enchantment! Of course there would be residual tension. When the entire Granger spying had begun, he had assumed that the girl had somehow turned her attention on him out of curiosity after they had shared. He’d never heard sniggers in the hallways from other students so he had to assume that she hadn’t told anyone of what had happened. For that he was secretly thankful.

Graduation was under six months away and this fact seemed to permeate his brain whenever he had her in classes. She sat near the back now, her eyes firmly on her work. It was only when she adopted the same trick he had through his youth – staring at him through her mass of fringe – that he wondered if her interest in him went beyond mere curious interest. It was during their classes in January that he had been tipped off that Hermione Granger was in fact interested in more than just his classes.

It had been during a double potions class in which there had been a written quiz of the previous three chapters. It had been a surprise quiz and Snape had secretly enjoyed the dawning looks of horror on their faces as the parchments were handed out and he explained they had an hour to complete it all, including the essay portions.

When they all looked sufficiently dismayed (aside from indomitable Miss Granger) he grasped the large gilded hourglass on his desk and turned it upside down. Immediately the dark green sand grains began drifting to the bottom.

“You may begin.”

For the first half hour the only sound heard in the classroom was the scratching of quills on parchment and the occasional sigh. During this time Snape had walked up and down the aisles. He pretended it was to make sure they weren’t cheating, but everyone knew he did it because he loved the way they all seemed to get out of sorts when he was nearby.

“Professor?”

He had been walking near the middle row when he saw the Granger girl raise her hand delicately. He strode over to her, surprised. There was the occasional student that may ask a clarifying question during an exam, but never her.  When he approached he noted the flush to her cheeks and the way she couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry sir, I’m afraid that my parchment was smudged. I’m unsure what the fourteenth question is asking.”

Snape sighed deeply in irritation before he bent over her shoulder, his left hand braced flat on the desk for balance. His eyes scanned her paper, noting that the fourteenth question was in fact quite smudged and unreadable.  He also noticed that her hair was brushing against his cheek and she smelled lovely. Like peaches and Hogwarts soap.

At this realization he had stiffened immediately, his own breathing quickening slightly. He had been trying to recall what the smudges had said when she’d done it, right there in front of the entire class – not that anyone noticed. His hand had been close to hers and she had reached out her pinky finger and ever so slowly dragged that digit against his thumb.  

Her skin was soft and warm and the minute she touched him it had sent a shot of electricity through him.  It had completely unnerved him and he had leapt back as if stung. With a glance at a neighboring student he spied what the question had been.

“The fourteenth question asks you to name the law that dictates how to brew antidotes.”

With that he had lurched away from her and when he reached the front of the room he glanced back. She sat there, her mouth slightly parted and dreamy gaze on her face. It was an open look that made him swallow thickly. He had gone back to his desk and busied himself with writing on some parchment, ignoring her for the rest of the class.

The minute the class had been dismissed and his classroom was empty he had bolted the door behind the last student. His trousers had been unbuttoned at a rapid pace and it was only a few long strokes before he had spent himself all over his hands.

He knew who had been the reason for it and he knew it was abhorrent to fixate on her. He'd never been inappropriate with a student and he wasn't about to start now. Though it felt disingenuous to think that as he stroked himself to climax, recalling her mouth on his at he Christmas party. He knew he had to stop thinking about her body and her touch. It was wrong.

The only problem was, he didn’t want to.

***

“Ginny there’s no way I can wear this.”

 

Hermione’s voice was muffled behind the curtain of the lingerie section of _Madame Malkin’s_ dressing room. Ginny was a few steps away looking at new robes when her friend called to her. “I look ridiculous.”

“Hermione you’re exaggerating.”

Hermione poked her head out from behind the dark pink curtains. She was red-faced and sweaty. Obviously getting into the garment hadn’t been easy.  “I look like a tart!”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Ginny laughed.

Madame Malkin suddenly came gliding over to the girls in the dressing room, a mauve measuring tape about her shoulders. The squat woman’s large silver hair gave her the air of looking like she was wearing a thimble.

“And how are we getting along beautiful ladies?” she gushed, her eyes disappearing as she smiled widely. Hermione’s face went a puce color and she visibly winced.

“Fine.”

“Don’t forget that anything can be customized!” she gushed.  “Let us see how you look and we can begin tailoring!”

“No!” Hermione insisted with a yelp, her head dashing back inside the changing room. Madame Malkin brought a dramatic hand to her collar, obviously shocked at the girl’s behavior.

“I’ll have you know I have over ninety years experience in clothing!”

“She means no offense, Madame Malkin,” Ginny said with a polite smile in Madame Malkin’s direction.  “She’s just a bit shy. I’ll check in with her.”

Malkin gave an offended sniff before gliding off to see to another young witch. Ginny rolled her eyes at the woman’s retreating figure before parting the curtains and dashing inside. She closed the curtains behind her and glanced at Hermione.

The older girl stood awkwardly, her arms over her chest defensively.  The outfit was a dark scarlet, with criss-crossing ribbons, thigh high stockings and a bra that barely covered her nipples.

“You don’t look like a tart!” Ginny insisted, eyeing the outfit. “But it’s not you at all.”

“None of this is me,” Hermione said, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. Why was she doing this? Why was she so determined to lose her virginity?

_Because you can't have Snape and you want the distraction._

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Ginny assured her. “You’re lovely and you shouldn’t be afraid to show it off!”

“I don’t need to be a walking advertisement,” Hermione argued, red suffusing her cheeks. She didn’t like being this bad at something. She was always the knowledgeable one, the clever one. Having to rely on advice about something as silly as clothing made her frustrated and rather humiliated.

“You just need something classy yet suggestive,” Ginny offered gently. “If you rip off your robes and this is the first thing Theodore sees you in, he may faint!”

“Yes well,” Hermione gave an aimless shrug and began glancing at the other items she was to try on.  The air between the two girls was heavy and Ginny took a moment to survey Hermione’s downcast face. There was something about her friend’s body language that didn’t seem authentic and there was something else as well.

Was it that she wasn’t over Ron? That thought caused Ginny to inwardly groan.

“Let’s go grab a snack,” Ginny said, giving her friend a kind look.  “Maybe when we’re done you’ll feel more up to shopping.”

Minutes later they were in the _Leaky Cauldron_ in a corner booth speaking quietly with one another as their food and drinks arrived. The two girls were looking uncomfortably from one to another until the red-head took the plunge and spoke.

“I need to tell you something,” Ginny blurted, taking a sip of her wine and fixing Hermione with a serious look on her face. Hermione immediately felt her stomach churning. Something was wrong.

“Ron’s getting married,” Ginny said, wincing slightly as she spoke. “It was a surprise. He told everyone just this week. Seems he’s quite keen on Candace and wants to show the world. They just told us yesterday and I expect you’ll get an owl soon. I just wanted you to hear it from _me_ … Not from some letter.”

There. She had told her the news that had been haunting her all morning. To her surprise Hermione didn’t seem upset at all.

“Oh,” Hermione took a nibble of her sandwich. “Well, that’s wonderful Ginny. I’ll be sure to send him an engagement present!”

 Suddenly all the confusion that had been surrounding Ginny that afternoon vanished.  Hermione wasn’t nursing a broken heart! She was infatuated with someone else!

“There’s someone else, isn’t there?” Ginny asked, her eyes narrowing. Hermione’s eyes suddenly went from her sandwich up into the clear eyes of her friend, Ginny.

“Huh?” Hermione swallowed thickly. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t care that Ron is engaged. And you don’t fancy Theodore Nott,” Ginny said, a smirk on her face. 

Hermione faltered a moment before her eyes fell to the table in dejection. “No.”

“But there _is_ someone?”

Hermione couldn’t meet her friend’s eyes, her face suddenly feeling like a beacon of red. She nodded slowly as Ginny clapped her hands excitedly.

“I knew it!” Ginny crowed victorious. “So we’re not shopping to distract you about Ron and Valentines? And we’re not shopping for Theodore, are we?”

Another shake of Hermione’s bushy head.

“So who is he?”

“I can’t say,” Hermione said, wincing. “I don’t- It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“He’s… Older,” Hermione offered with a shrug. “And I don’t know if he fancies me back. But all I want to do it shag him senseless.”

“Tell me more!” Ginny implored, gripping her friend by the hand and smiling.

“Well,” Hermione was uncomfortable, and suddenly felt vulnerable talking about Severus Snape of all people in public! Not that Ginny would ever know that. But this entire situation wasn’t her at all.  “He’s tall and very clever and he kisses divinely.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“At the Christmas party,” Hermione said, knowing that there were so many people at that party  from past years that Ginny would never narrow it down.  She felt herself relaxing a moment into the booth, finally able to share some of what had been weighing heavily on her.

“What’s his name?”

“Erm… Simon.”

“So why are you with Theodore?” Ginny was confused. “This Simon fellow kisses wonderfully and you want to shag him. Why waste your time with Nott?”

“Because I’m a terrible coward,” Hermione groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I really don’t know how Simon feels about me. I’ve given him hints that I want to progress the relationship but he’s not shown any interest. I thought perhaps Theodore would be a good distraction and it would help me forget about Simon.”

“But that hasn’t happened,” Ginny observed.

“No.”

There was a pause in which Ginny regarded her friend. Hermione looked so frazzled and beside herself. It was completely not her style.  

“You know what you need to do.”

“Yes,” Hermione said, giving a resolute nod, her face that familiar look of determination. “I need to tell Theo it’s over and I need to stop thinking about Simon full stop.”

“I agree about telling Theo its over,” Ginny said, a small smile crossing her features before she gripped Hermione’s hand across the table. “But I think you need to make a go for Simon.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as she glanced over at her friend. “Pardon?”

“Think about it,” Ginny said, fixing Hermione with a serious look. “When is the last time you were this besotted with someone?”

Hermione had to think about that. Ron had definitely been a large romantic part of her life. Victor Krum another. But neither of them had ever made her feel even a fraction of what she felt when Severus Snape glanced at her. She couldn’t explain it.  She hated it and she loved it. It frightened and thrilled her. It defied logic and yet she couldn’t stop thinking about it or him.

“Never.”

“Exactly.”

Hermione gave a small smile, her cheeks pinking delightfully. It was remarkably freeing being able to talk to Ginny about this- even if it was in a type of code.  The two spoke a while longer, laughing and giggling and sharing. It felt wonderful for Hermione although she had to be certain not to slip up and reveal Simon’s real name.

“So I think if you’re really keen on this Simon you need to be aggressive,” Ginny offered, a bit tipsy from her drinks. “You need to get something that’ll knock his socks off.”

“I’d be too embarrassed if he turned me down!” Hermione insisted, her smile goofy. “What if I threw myself at him and he completely rejected me? I’d never live it down!”

“Yeah but what if you threw yourself at him and he _didn’t_ turn you down?” Ginny said, pointing at Hermione wobbily. “That’s the _real_ question.”

There was a moment of pause and Hermione glanced out the dirty window of the pub. She wondered a moment if the risk was worth it. If she threw herself at him, truly didn’t give him any chance to misconstrue her intentions it left her vulnerable.  At his mercy. But then again being vulnerable and at the mercy of Severus Snape was causing Hermione to feel heated for different reasons.

“How can I throw myself at him?”

“You tell him to meet you somewhere neutral,” Ginny offered. “Somewhere like this.  Then you show up a few minutes late, dressed to the nines and use your considerable charm. Then once he’s completely smitten you suggest getting a room somewhere."

“I’d be too embarrassed,” Hermione said, smiling into her butter beer. “Besides, what if I asked him to come and he never showed up? What if he thinks I’m too young for him?”

“Then you’d have your answer,” Ginny said with a shrug. “But Hermione. He’s not going to say no. Trust me.”

Hermione gave a warm smile to her friend, knowing that the girl was trying to bolster her confidence. Ginny’s eyes drifted outside the tavern.

“Here, look at her for example,” Ginny said, discreetly pointing to the blonde woman who was walking into _Twillfitt and Tattings_ across the street. “She’s your size and build, but look how her robes accentuate her figure! Yours just hide you. We need to get you something really smashing that’ll have Simon begging to take you out.”

Hermione looked down at her robes, knowing that underneath lay a boring uniform and under that an even blander pair of knickers and an ill-fitting bra.  Could clothing really make all that big a difference? She had her reservations.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Ginny said, sensing her friend’s reluctance.  She suddenly felt awful, forcing poor Hermione into something she clearly didn’t want.

Hermione glanced over, watching the beautiful blonde woman entering into the clothing shop and paused a moment. Was that the kind of woman Severus Snape desired? A woman who dressed and looked like that? If he saw her more as a woman and less as a student perhaps he’d consider her a viable romantic option.

Ginny watched as her friend’s eyes wandered over to the blonde, obviously taking in her form. Then her eyes got a far-away look as if she was thinking of something quite complex. She paused a moment before a small, almost mischievous smile crossed her lips.

“You know, Ginny. I agree. Let’s find something that’ll _really_ impress him.”

 

 


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that I need to note that this chapter is quite graphic. And also there is sort of 'dub-con' for reasons that I can't really say, or I will spoil things. You've been warned. Happy Valentine's my delightful readers. xx Holden.

Valentine’s Day finally arrived with a flourish of red, pink and sparkles everywhere. Seems even with Albus gone, the desire to festoon the entire school in copious amounts of hearts and cherubs with arrows was not lost on the current headmistress.   A few hearts had been enchanted to flutter about the ceiling. Snape covertly shot them down when the students weren’t watching as he made his way to the Great Hall that morning.

The only good thing about the blasted holiday was that it was on a Sunday this year, which meant Severus wouldn’t have to suffer the presence of students flirting and acting overtly nauseating. It also meant he wouldn’t have to suffer through the grating experience of trying to ignore Hermione Granger in his classes.

In truth, for the last week the girl had been completely cold to him. She seemed to deliberately go out of her way to ignore him in the halls. Her Wednesday stalking of him had stopped this week and during meals she never even glanced at him. He should have been delighted at this change of mood, but a part of him missed the attention. So few women looked his way before the end of the war. Hermione was no bathing beauty by any stretch, but she was clever and she had shown herself to be brave. To have a young woman like that interested in him, despite being aware of his shortcomings, he had to admit, was good for his ego.

Now after the war and with news of his long hidden love of Lily Evans he had become the unwitting eligible bachelor of the century.  He rarely left the castle and when he did it was only to get a drink and  speak to no one. He often went to taverns _disillusioned_ or in disguise. He didn’t trust the women of the wizarding world any longer. Ever since Ministry Worker Constance Gardenier who had always referred to him – to his face no less – as a “ _hook-nosed toe-rag_ ” had sent him a rather lascivious billet doux a month after news of his eternal love for Lily Evans had been splashed all over the Daily Prophet.

He walked up to the head table, glancing at the sea of student faces bright and joyful before grimacing and taking a seat next to Minerva. The woman had decided to wear a ridiculous red heart-shaped brooch that declared in sparkles “love is all around”.  

“Good morning Severus,” Minerva said joyfully, glancing at the man to her right. “And Happy-“

“Before you even think to finish that sentence I will remind you that I loathe the holiday and everything that goes with it.” He took a large swig of his black coffee, his body weary. “The fact that you’ve decided to tart the entirety of this school up in red, pink and _glitter_ is repulsive.”

Minerva hid a smile behind her tea cup. “Well, then I don’t know how much you’ll enjoy your breakfast.”

At this Snape’s meal appeared before him and he inwardly groaned.  Heart-shaped pancakes. Heart shaped eggs and worst of all, a heart shaped biscuit in an obscene pink shade decorated liberally with red sprinkles. He swore gently under his breath, stopping only when Minerva shot him a severe look.

“You will remember yourself, Severus.”

Properly subdued, he began to drink his coffee in silence. Heaps of students began to pile into the large room _, ooing_ at the decorations and _ahhing_ at the delicious looking breakfast.  While normally Sunday was a quiet morning in the Great Hall, due to the festivities it seemed every student was there. Snape couldn’t help but notice that a certain Gryffindor entered with her red-haired friend. He dragged his attention away from her quickly, glancing over to Minerva.

He had just parted his lips, about to excuse himself when there was a great flurry of commotion from the rafters. The other professors glanced up in surprise at the sound. Snape didn’t even pretend to hear them, shoveling eggs into his downturned mouth instead.

“It would seem that the post has arrived,” Minerva said, her brogue almost lost in the flutter of wings.

Packages and envelopes sailed down from the ceiling and into the eager and waiting hands of the Hogwarts students. Hermione glanced up from her porridge and smiled as she watched Ginny across from her grasping at an ornate red box.

“It’s from Harry,” she giggled as she tore into the wrapping.

“As if it would be from anyone else!” Hermione said good-naturedly. Her eyes slid ever so slowly over to where Snape sat, frown in place on his moody face. She held in a smirk as the first envelope slipped onto the table, next to his plate. She could see him resolutely ignoring it, assuming it wasn’t for him but instead for Professor Sprout, who sat next to him.

When three more bright pink envelopes were delivered with gusto by several owls directly onto his lap, she saw the surprise cross his face.  This was not a man who was accustomed to receiving valentines, or comfortable with romance in general.

Hermione had known this would occur. Being painted the most eligible wizard in the world had its inevitabilities. She knew that he would be swarming with adulation and attention. She was surprised to see how ill-at-ease he was because of it. 

And then there it was – in a sea of pink and red, sat a small green package. It sailed directly in front of him and Hermione held her breath before looking away. The man had wonderful instincts. If he suspected she was behind this gift, he would do everything in his power to avoid it.  She could only hope that he’d seen it and not been repulsed.  

It was a small green box. Not much bigger than the palm of his hand. But attached to the lid in small looping writing (Hermione had gone to great lengths to change her handwriting to avoid detection) was the simple sentence: “Open Me.” 

Hermione darted a glance up to him, watching as he looked for a long time at the box before raising his wand above it and muttering. She couldn’t hear from where she was sitting, but no doubt he was casting a searching spell. Ensuring that the box held no dark magic.

Hermione had to stifle a smirk at this.

“What are you so happy about?”

Hermione’s attention was drawn back to Ginny who was now wearing the most beautiful ruby pendant Hermione had ever seen. Apparently Harry may have been rubbish with most things female-related, but buying jewelry to please his lady love was not one of them.

“Just thinking about tonight.”

She went back to her porridge, but not before she glanced surreptitiously up to the Head Table to see Minerva shoot Snape a small interested look and spoke too lowly for anyone to hear.

“It would seem you’re quite popular today, Severus.”

“This is a farce,” Snape replied bitterly as gifts, parcels and packages of chocolates continued to rain down on him. It was becoming cartoonish the way the letters, parcels and more were starting to pile on his breakfast table. “This is all that Skeeter woman’s fault. She’s painted me some lovelorn fop.”

At this, a large bouquet of bright red flowers fell into his lap from the sky and he pushed them to the ground angrily.

“How little she knows you,” Minerva said taking a sip of tea.

“Indeed,” Snape huffed, pushing the parcels as they began to inch their way towards him. He knew what each would say. That he was a hopeless romantic that simply needed someone new. Someone to help him replace Lily. Little did they know that obsession had thankfully died along with Voldemort. Now all that remained was a small hole in his heart and the knowledge that he had done right by her.

“She did it because I refused to be interviewed. So in retaliation she put out that horrid exposé and now look at this! I thought right after the war was bad. I didn’t know it would multiply into…”

“Adoration.”

“A _pink_ nightmare,” Snape finished with a frown. Part of him wondered if this was some student’s thought of revenge and his gaze darted up to see who was looking his way. Several students were glancing up at him, trying not to smirk. But none looked terrified enough to have actually crossed the vitriolic Potions Master.

He glanced at the small green box by his thumb. Out of all the ridiculous things, this was the only one that didn’t make him wince. It was a delicately carved wooden box, so small it fit into the palm of his hand. It was a dark green with serpents twining around the edges. A small bloodstone sat perched atop the lid, smoothed and shining brilliantly.  Attached to the stone tied with a twine, was a small piece of parchment that simply held the words: “Open Me.”

He’d taught many students and so placing them to their handwriting would be impossible if it were from them. But the simplicity and the almost commanding tone of the note had him intrigued and convinced it from someone older, more mature. 

After running a searching spell he was gratified to see that it held no dark magic.  Part of him was curious what was inside and the other part worried it was another trite gift from a strange witch or wizard. But mostly he didn’t want to open it here.

“Well I think I’ve been made enough of a laughingstock for one day,” he grumbled, covertly shoving the box into his robe pocket and standing.

“Leaving so soon?” Minerva asked, trying to suppress a grin at the sight of Snape being engulfed in garish colors of love and syrupy emotion. “But what shall we do with the gifts from your adoring public?”

She stifled a laugh as he stood rapidly, shooting her a dark look. And before striding from the head table without looking back, he hissed out a reply.

“Burn them for all I care.”

***

Even if the gift was rubbish he could at least keep the box. It would go well with his furnishings. This is what Snape told himself as he sat before the fire in his room, pulling out the green box from his robes. It sat lightly on his lap before he finally took the lid off, his breath catching in his throat a moment.

In the box lay a pair of emerald green knickers, high-cut, lace and completely provocative – as was the senders intention, surely. In the box, they were barely a scrap of fabric. On a witch who sent this… they would leave nothing to the imagination. Immediately Snape felt himself grow hard, the implications of such a gift rather obvious.

It was amusing for him to note that despite the very detailed and lurid letters he’d received in his time since his hailing as the dark hero from all matters of woman, it was this small piece of fabric that had him completely enticed. 

Surprised at his arousal over the small sexual talisman, he plucked the fabric from the box and noted that they held a light scent, something feminine and musky mixed with warm vanilla and cinnamon. Something that promised warmth and spice should he continue. When he drew them out of the box he was intrigued to find that underneath lay a small piece of parchment. He opened it hurriedly, noting that his fingers were trembling slightly in anticipation.

“ _Severus,_

_I wore these last night and I touched myself thinking of you. I thought of you inside me. I pictured you rocking against me, fucking me harshly and when I came, I called out your name until my throat was hoarse.”_

Snape nearly dropped the parchment, but his libido demanded he continue.

 “ _I think of you so very often. I want to know what you taste like. I want to know what you’ll look like when I take you into my mouth. I want to know what you sound like when you reach that pinnacle of desire. I want to pleasure you in ways you could never imagine.”_

Snape groaned lightly, shifting slightly in his seat.

“ _I know you don’t require or desire a partner and I don’t wish to intrude on such. I simply wish for you to take me. I need only be yours for an evening. I will be at the Hog’s Head Inn tonight at nine pm. I hope to see you_. ”

At this the author had pressed their lips covered in red lipstick to the parchment. Desperately, Severus scanned his wand over the mark, needing to know who it had come from. He frowned when he saw that she had enchanted it to be untraceable.

She hadn’t given any indication of her age, what she looked like or what she’d be wearing. She hadn’t indicated if she knew him or had been a former student. Everything in him told Severus that this was a fool’s errand. What if she was unpleasant? Simply because someone could write such things didn’t confirm an engaging personality.  Looks didn’t matter that much to him, he decided after a moment. He of all people couldn’t be a chooser in that department.

He raised himself to stand, feeling the tenting in his trousers and feeling pathetic. He was so out of practice, where would he begin? Was this even a good idea? But as he glanced back at the parchment he hadn’t been able to put down, he felt his lips curl into a small and eager smirk.

***

_What am I doing? This is so stupid! He’s going to realize right away –_

Hermione took another sip of her wine at the bustling pub, trying to calm her nerves. She shifted in the revealing dark green robes and glanced at her wrist watch. It was almost nine and her entire stomach felt as if it were churning like the ocean. She glanced at the parcels on the barstool next to her – she had been hoping to save Snape a seat, but now she wasn’t sure if it was a foolish idea.

Out of a flurry of panic she raised the cloak of her robes, wanting to obscure everything. She needed to focus on her breathing. There was too much distracting her.

She had chosen the _Hogs Head_ for two reasons. One – it had a bustling crowd on holidays such as this, perfect for her to escape into should she change her mind or something went wrong. Secondly, it rented rooms upstairs at a very reasonable rate. 

_What if he never shows up?_

She took another trembling sip from her glass and lowered it. The minute the glass hit the bar top, she heard the door open and just knew it was him. Five minutes early.

He strode into the room as a man with purpose, his dark cloak swinging behind him as he strode up to the bar and shot a look at the young man there.  He removed a sickle from his pocket and pushed it across the bar.

“Firewhiskey. Ogdens.”

The young man gave a nod before passing the infamous Severus Snape a small tumbler of his best stuff. Snape frowned, glancing about for an empty seat. Hermione removed her parcels from the stool next to her, silently offering him a place to rest.

He gave her a curt nod before he took the seat,  taking a large sip and ignoring the stares and whispers. After the war he was stuff of legend and many were still in awe of him. It was one of the many reasons he never left the dungeons if he didn’t have to.

He scanned the bar, disappointed that he didn’t see anyone who he could envision having sent him that delicious note. There were many men, loud and drunk. Some women old and tarted up, some laughing with their dates. A woman sat to his left, her head hidden in a dark cloak. No, his mystery woman wasn’t here yet. He drummed his fingers absently, trying to calm himself.

_What if this is a joke?_

He was so close that Hermione could see the clean lines of his fingernails. Could see the shine of his dark hair in the candlelight. As he drummed his fingertips absently on the bar she took in the details of each tapered finger. Those fingers that she had been fantasizing about for months.

 "You’re staring," he said suddenly, his voice somehow low and silken in the bustling pub."Is there something you require from me?" 

 _Yes. I need you inside me._  

Hermione sputtered a bit on her wine, trying her best to look sexy as she wiped the corner of her mouth and tossed back the hood of her cloak. He viewed this, swiveling slightly so that his body faced hers.  

 “I should think it’s rather obvious,” Hermione sniffed, tossing her glossy hair over her shoulder. “I can only assume you received my parcel.”

 She tried to suppress a smirk as Snape’s eyes slowly took the jaunt from her feet to her face. He was obviously sizing her up and not quite believing what was in front of him.  He had not been expecting a beauty like this to be the author of the letter that was still tucked into the deep pocket of his robes.

 “That was _you_?”

 “It was,” Hermione said, silently praising the Polyjuice Potion she’d bought and for the beautiful girl she’d plucked the hair of that day shopping with Ginny. She'd known it was devious, but she also knew that Snape would never take her seriously as she was his student. Perhaps if she could convince him as this stranger, he'd see her as more of a woman. 

She could only hope.

She took a small sip of her wine, unsure of how to proceed. She had been practicing in the mirror all week, but now actually facing the object of desire she felt herself panicking.  

"Do we know one another?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowing on the leggy brunette.  She had to be in her mid-twenties and completely stunning. Full lips, long lashes and a body that was obviously taut underneath her skimpy robe. She had a haughty countenance, her eyes slanted and staring at him with interest.   

"I don't, believe so," Hermione answered seductively, her eyes roving his body at her leisure. She was enjoying the fact that she could without having to hide. "I’ve read of you in the papers of course. I am so thankful for all that you did. The sacrifices that you made so that we might live in a brighter tomorrow.” 

She could see him inwardly grimacing as she told him in earnest how she truly felt, and so she stopped. “But to answer your question, no, we’ve never actually met.”

 "What's your name?" His voice was low velvet; dreamy and dangerous.  She could see his spy instincts at work and she tried to steady her voice.  

"Names aren't really important," Hermione said, shocked by her own boldness. "For tonight I'll be whomever you want me to be."  

She attributed it to the body she was in - it was like wearing a mask. She felt braver and fearless.  She saw him arch an eyebrow at her in surprise and she bit her lower lip to keep from whimpering at the sight. She glanced away with a look she hoped was coquettish.  

“I’ve paid for a room upstairs,” Hermione said, unable to meet his gaze as he said it. “And I’d very much like us to use it.” 

She inwardly cheered as she saw Snape’s eyelids shuttering in surprise to her declaration. He stared at her a moment, taking another sip of his drink and regarding her silently.

 "I shouldn't," eventually Snape said, slowly as if convincing himself.  

"Are you with someone?" She posed it airily, as if she didn't care. 

"I'm not."

 “And you came because you received my parcel.” 

“I did.”

 "Then I don't see why we shouldn't move to the room upstairs," Hermione said, laying her proverbial cards on the table.  

She waited for him to move from the pub, to cite that this felt strange. To roll his eyes at her ham-fisted attempt at seduction. But instead he drained the rest of his firewhiskey, stood and offered her his arm. 

“Shall we?” 

***

The room was bare and smelled faintly of cedar. There was a bed, a wardrobe, a desk and a wingback chair by a small hearth. Hermione led the way, opening the creaking door and trying her best to calm her nerves. He was staring at her quite severely and Hermione wondered if he was trying to use his _Legillimens_ on her. She broke eye contact, smiling gently.

 “Anything to drink? Or eat?” Hermione motioned to the chilled champagne she had sent up earlier. She’d even ordered chocolate dipped strawberries much to the innkeepers confusion. Snape glanced at them warily and Hermione saw what it must seem like through his eyes; childish and trying too hard.  

_If he thinks you’re too young for him, you have to show him that you’re mature. For Merlin’s sake, Hermione! You’re more like a forty-year-old than a nineteen-year-old anyway._

Ginny’s advice from earlier in the week rang out in his mind and Hermione realized she needed to take control of the situation. Snape had already doffed his cloak and was looking to her with a strange look. He seemed suspicious of her, unsure of her motivations.  

“I meant what I said in the letter today,” Hermione said, keeping her voice steady. “I don’t require anything of you past this evening. You needn’t worry I’ll become clingy or possessive. I simply need a good shagging and I believe you're the wizard for the job.” 

She silently congratulated herself for not stumbling over the word shagging.  What she had said seemed to please him however, and Hermione felt her knees go weak as he began to unbutton the vest he wore.  His movements were languid and his eyes remained on her the entire time.  She’d never seen him undress before, obviously.But the sight was rather hypnotizing and Hermione felt herself simply standing across the room from him, staring out at him from a strangers face. There was elegance to his movements, a quiet dignity as he worked methodically on the buttons and pulled the vest down over his arms before depositing it onto the end of the bed.  

“Is this a voyeuristic experience?” Snape raised a brow in question.

Hermione fumbled with the latch of her robe and flipped it over her head, realizing that she looked anything but sexy as Snape stared at her. She tossed her cloak to join his vest on the end of the bed.  

"Tell me a fantasy," Hermione blurted, wanting to know more about what turned him on.  Desperate to this silence, needing to hear his voice. That voice which had been a touchstone of fear through her years and now had morphed into something that she found she couldn’t stop thinking about.  

"I don't have many fantasies," he replied casually unbuttoning his crisp white lawn shirt. Hermione faltered a moment before walking to the champagne, her high heels clicking against the floorboards. She poured them both a glass and made her way back over to where he stood at the end of the bed dressed in just his trousers and long sleeved lawnshirt unbuttoned to his middle.

 "Every man has a fantasy," Hermione insisted with a seductive grin as she passed him his flute of champagne. She was delighted when he took a small sip, only after she had. "I want to know yours." 

"Why don't you go first?" Snape said, placing his glass down and glancing over in interest as he pulled the lawnshirt off the crook of his arms and tossed it onto the bed. "If I find it enticing enough I may be inclined to share myself." 

 _Tricky bugger._  

"All right," Hermione said, her eyes dancing and the champagne and her earlier drink already dancing their way merrily through her system. "I've always had this fantasy about sleeping with an older man." Snape gave her an encouraging smirk as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, tugging it off inch by inch as he watched.  The sight of him standing there shirtless and with tented trousers was causing her to feel flushed and delighted.

  _Make him want it Hermione. Half the battle is the seduction, the lead up. That’s the hardest part. The rest is all biology._  

"I suppose sleeping isn't the right adjective," Hermione said, slinking over in his direction as she dropped the shirt to the floor, leaving her in just her skirt and bra.  " _Fucking_ would be more accurate." 

She saw as his eyes glittered at that, his gaze falling to her hands which were coming to sit on the waist of her skirt. Very slowly she hooked her fingers around the waist of her skirt and drew it down over her trembling thighs.

_I can't believe I'm doing this with Professor Snape._

 She could see that his eyes never left her face but she was rewarded with the sight of a large bulge in his trousers as she stepped out of her skirt.  

_Because of me!_

 "I want to be taken," Hermione continued, moving forward in just her underclothes and high black heels.  "By someone who knows what he’s doing." He raised a curious eyebrow at this. There was something about this woman that was pure sex that seemed to be hiding pure fear. She moved towards him as if she were a girl in a play, reading lines that didn’t quite seem to fit the mouth that was saying them. 

“Why me?”

He knew it was impertinent, but he wanted to know. A part of him panicked that he was simply one of a multitude of wizards and that thought caused his palms to itch. He had no desire to be compared to many other men. He saw her blush a bit, her eyes falling to the space between them. 

“I can’t explain it.”

 “Attempt to.” 

Hermione swallowed, suddenly feeling vulnerable in her underclothes. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I saw you at this last Christmas party at Hogwarts.” He looked surprised at this. But he couldn’t keep track of all the witches and wizards who had been there that evening.  “There was something about you that caught my attention,” Hermione continued, closing her eyes as she spoke. When she did she could picture him there, standing regal and foreboding. “You were so… Entrancing. And ever since that evening I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you. About your hands on my body." 

Snape swallowed thickly.  “Do you do this often? Ask men to go to bed with you?” 

“No.”

 He breathed a small sigh of relief at that, noting that she had come to a complete stop a few steps away from him. But the voice which had announced this sounded small and unsure and rather embarrassed. Snape looked to the woman in surprise – how was a witch this enticing and beautiful not experienced? Was it choice or fear?  He knew he should ask, but he didn’t want to upset her 

“And yet you sent me that parcel…” Snape let the sentence linger.  “With a note that suggested a woman with an extremely large sexual… _appetite_.” 

He said the last word as if tasting it and Hermione felt her insides quiver. With a sudden look of determination, she crossed the empty space between them and pressed her body against his. 

“What I lack in experience I make up for in enthusiasm,” she whispered against his mouth, noting that his delicious mouth hooked into a smirk. “And I assure you, my sexual appetite is _substantia_ l.”  

Before he could make anymore inquiries, she was pressing her lips to his. And with a small rumble in his chest, his arms were wrapped around her, coming to pull her tightly against his warm, bared chest. She could feel the harshness of his cock between them and she shivered.  His tongue danced along the seam of her lips before she acquiesced and parted them. He tasted of peppermint and firewhisky and she sighed against him. There was the fire of the moment under the mistletoe and before she could stop herself she’d brought her hand between them and began to unbutton his trousers as they continued kissing. He grinned against her mouth and pulled back, surveying her face gently.  

“So eager,” he said, though the tone was chiding the fire in his eyes was anything but amused. 

“I am,” Hermione said huskily, not caring that she sounded wanton. “I’ve been eagerly waiting for this moment for months.” His lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. She watched as Snape tilted his head forward, his hot breath huffed against the side of her face.

“I’m disappointed to note that the item in the parcel seems to have a twin,” Snape rumbled against her ear, his fingers slipping down between them and coming down to the band of her panties.  “I admit I was rather hoping to find you… _without_ , this evening.” 

Hermione’s mind went a million miles an hour, as she tried to quell the delighted flop in her stomach at his words and his touch. Professor Snape was standing there, his forefinger hooked in the band of her skimpy panties telling her that he wished she wasn’t wearing any at all!   _Get in control, Granger._  Snape obviously didn’t know that her sexual experience added up to a few fumblings from Victor and pathetic snogging sessions with Ron. She had to do this the only way she knew how; by taking charge.   

Snape felt himself being pushed gently by his shoulders into the wingback chair behind him by the young woman. He didn't break eye contact as he slowly lowered himself into the chair. Even as her face tilted and drew nearer, his eyes never left her face. She was beautiful, her voice soft and honeyed.  

“I want you.” 

Snape would have said something in return, but the stunning creature in front of him had decided at that moment to place her feet on either side of his legs and lower herself down on his lap.  He regarded her from behind hooded lids as she sat herself firmly on his lap, straddling him gently. His eyes flicked to her exposed skin, looking to her warily as she smiled down at him. 

 _I don’t know this woman. This could be a huge mistake._  

At that moment the woman before him reached behind her and unhooked the brassiere she was wearing and his decision was made for him. Her breasts fell heavily from the cups, each dusky nipple pert and waiting for his mouth. Who was he not to oblige? He lowered his mouth to one waiting nipple and was rewarded with a small, sharp gasp from the girl. His fingertips gently plucked at the exposed nipple not being laved by his attentive tongue.

 " _Oh! Oh yes!"_

The sound of her moaned desire was enough for Snape to finish in his trousers, but he wanted more of her. Wanted to take her in all manner of ways. She may have promised him pleasure, but her body aching and desperate for his was better than any potion. He wanted more.

_I should stop._

She pulled back, as if hearing his internal struggle and her nipple popped from between his lips. Her mouth gently pressed against his and he felt himself fully surrendering. Merlin it had been ages since he'd taken a witch to bed. Voldemort was dead. Potter was safe. Shouldn’t he be able to enjoy himself?  

“Tell me what you fantasize about,” Hermione repeated from earlier, finding that when he spoke it was much more effective. It transported him and her. She kissed his neck, enjoying the softness of his skin and avoiding the scars he hadn’t bothered to glamour.   

“You.” 

“Liar,” Hermione said with a small giggle, nibbling his neck a bit and enjoying as he squirmed. “You’ve never met me before. There’s got to be another fantasy.”

 She felt as his body stilled; he sobered a moment and Hermione pulled back in enough time to see the guilt flash across his face. 

_Oh Merlin. It’s going to be about Lily._  She felt her stomach churn. She never should have opened this can of worms.

"I fantasize about someone I shouldn’t,” was what he finally said.  

Before he could say anything more she’d launched herself against his mouth, kissing him with a vigor that she hadn’t anticipated. She heard a small growl from the back of his throat as he returned the kiss, grasping her bottom and crushing her bare chest against him.  

“Tell me what you want,” she whimpered against him. “ _Anything_.”

 He was breathing heavily through his large nose, his dark eyes limpid as his eyes betrayed what he secretly desired as they flicked from his trousers up to her face.  She smiled gently before kissing him once more and sliding between his legs. Without looking away from him she unbuttoned the tops of his trousers. He shifted slightly so that she could pull them free from his body. They were thick and scratchy, she noted in passing interest.

 In quick succession he’d been divested of his underpants as well and he suddenly sat there naked, looking at the top-naked nymph between his legs, from behind his heavily lidded eyes.  Hermione took a small nervous gulp as his member suddenly jutted out at her, rosy and waiting. She licked her lips nervously and saw as Snape’s cock twitched at the sight. She grinned up at him, delighted that she was able to cause such a reaction in a man as recalcitrant as him.  

“Do you want my mouth?”

 “Yesss.” The word was hissed, and his lips barely moved as he spoke. Hermione felt her knickers absolutely soaking at the sound. His eyes were stormy and his hands gripped the arms of the chair in anticipation.  

She lowered her mouth between his legs, kissing the tip with a gentle reverence. He hissed a moment, his cock twitching at the contact. She was interested in everything; the salty taste, the heat, the scent. She slowly took him more into her mouth, delighted as he groaned above her.  She continued, remembering Ginny’s tutelage. She needed to use her hands a bit as well. No teeth. Judicious tongue. So many rules and yet it felt as natural as anything as she sat there, knelt between her Professor’s legs, taking in his cock as much as she could. 

“Christ,” he said, slipping into the language of his youth. “Fuck that feels amazing.”

 She continued, her hands pumping his shaft as he tongue flicked under the head of his cock, tracing along the ridge of his shaft. He was twitching like mad, his thighs clenching with every inch she took. Her mouth was delicious hot and wet and she knew what she was doing.  It was a mouth that felt disturbingly similar to Hermione Granger.  

_Fuck why did I think of that?_

 And he felt disgusted with himself as his mind went to the Christmas party. Of Hermione Granger’s mouth against his. And now, as this beautiful woman took his cock into her mouth, all he could think of was Hermione. Sitting in the front row and parting her legs. 

_Fuck me, Professor. You know you want to._  Soon enough he was thrusting obscenely, wanting to fuck her mouth for as long as he could manage. With every moan this girl gave, his fantasy Hermione was moaning, begging for his cock. 

_Stop. Stop thinking of her._

But it was wrong and because it was wrong it felt so good. Thinking of his student like that was horrendous, even if she was almost twenty.  But perhaps it was because of the forbidden nature of everything that he felt his cock stiffening further.  

“Yes,” he hissed, his eyes closed and his head tilted back. “Don’t stop.” But after months of abstinence and the fantasy of Hermione between his legs taking his cock, it didn’t take long for him to get there. He could feel he was close and it was causing him to feel light headed.

 “I’m close,” he muttered, unsure of the proper protocol for such a thing. Most witches liked to know when it was going to happen. It seemed only good manners. The girl working between his legs seemed delighted and continued vigorously, obviously wanting to enjoy the entire experience.

  _I need to see what he looks like when he comes._  

She glanced up at him from between his legs, her mouth still around his cock and working hurriedly. He was stunning; his eyes were closed and his lashes were fans against his pale face.  Through his slightly parted lips she could see he was clenching his teeth, his body tensed and his cheeks were beginning to pink.  

_Fuck. I’m never going to forget this sight._

 Feeling her gaze on him, his own eyes shuttered open. At the sight of this girl’s eyes staring up at him with her mouth firmly around his cock, he felt himself unable to stop thrusting and he came with a roar, his hips bucking with a fury as he emptied himself into her mouth.  He groaned low and long as he did so, gripping the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles were bright white. Hermione took all of him, noting that it was much more than she was expecting. When he finished, she slowly removed her mouth from him, noticing as he shuddered.  

“You’re amazing,” he croaked, about to say something more when something about the smiling woman seated between his legs changed since they’d begun. He couldn't quite place it, but after a moment realized that her eyes had gone from a bright blue to a deep brown.  All of a sudden the axis of the world turned.  

"Polyjuice!" he bellowed, pushing back from her with a look of extreme horror. Hermione felt as if she was going to vomit right onto the floor at his reaction. But she'd taken a large dose! A dose that would have kept her in this body at least three hours! What was going on?  

But already she could see Snape was struggling to stand and reach for his wand. Without another word she had kicked Snape’s trousers out from his reach, thrown on her robes, gathered her clothing and rushed from the room. Snape lurched for his clothing, his heart hammering in his chest. He felt himself breathing rapidly and quickly threw his clothes on before rushing out the door and down to the Inn. The young man from the bar was the only one left.  

“Did you see the girl that was with me earlier?”

 “Huh?” 

Snape swore under his breath about the uselessness of bar staff, pulling on his large cloak and storming out into the snowy February evening. He searched in the direction he assumed she’d gone, disappointed to find that she’d managed to cast a fairly good non-tracking spell. She was nowhere to be found and even her footprints were nary to be found.  His breath was puffing in front of him and Severus felt his heart slowly coming to beat at a normal speed.  What the fuck had just happened? Why would some woman come dressed as a goddess and suck his cock? What was the angle? She hadn’t robbed him, nor taken his wand…  

Rita Skeeter. 

Of course.  

It all made sense. The tart had undoubtedly sent some little tart under the influence of Polyjuice to get information on him, after refusing the interview. His heart lurched as he went back through everything that had been said to the girl. Thankfully nothing stood out as too erroneous. Thank goodness he’d never revealed the true desires of his heart; his ultimate fantasy. The lecherous Potions Professor having the overwhelming desire to bed the Head Girl of Hogwarts seemed far too cliché. Even for the _Daily Prophet._

Snape sighed, rubbing his temples tenderly a moment before heading back to Hogwarts. Nothing would come of this evening – she’d gotten no pertinent information from him and he’d enjoyed a long, delightful round of fellatio. As he walked, needing to feel the cold on his feverish skin he couldn’t help but acknowledge that what had happened had been… pleasurable.   A gruesome smirk crossed his pale features.  

Perhaps there was hope for Valentine’s Day after all.


End file.
